Scenes Through a Windowpane
by Idle Leaves
Summary: An ongoing series of unconnected drabbles, double drabbles, and 20-minute ficlets. Various characters, ratings, and content.
1. Splinter, Obligation, Sometimes

This is an ongoing collection of drabbles, double drabbles, and 20-minute ficlets written for various timed-writing prompts. They're unconnected, and although being Marauders-heavy at times have a variety of characters. Feedback is welcome.

* * *

**Prompt:** Sirius/Remus and "through the looking glass".  
**Canon/Timeline:** During Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

**SPLINTER**

All that's the same, it seems, is the impending war. The rest is only similar, a skewed reflection of Last Time. He remembers, now; the recollections have been coming back to him in fits and starts. It's almost like he didn't live through the years in between, sometimes; they exist in fragments-splinters-of hopelessness, want, determination, desperation.

It's broken, he thinks, into pieces. In the corners of the old flat, where the lamp-light didn't reach, the darkness had been comforting; it blocked out the rest of the universe, bringing it down to what mattered-the body beside him, heartbeat against his chest, breath on his neck. Here, the corners mark the boundaries of his world, not the centre of it; a cage, not a cocoon, meant to contain, not to protect.

When calloused hands touch cracking edges and chipped paint, he can't feel the promise of moving up and moving on. Nothing more than artifacts, these walls, of what had once been considered strong but had become tired, grey, weary. Like themselves. He's rarely alone when his eyes snap open in pitch-black, pulse hammering; shadows press down upon him, curling over him, but the warmth at his side reminds him that this is Now and not Then, that this time around the tale may-must-have a different end. There's relief in hazel eyes when the dream-haze finally ebbs and gives way to reality. Certain experiences cannot be forgotten nor reversed; scarred by time and circumstance, he understands this, now. He sees it in Remus, but he feels it in himself. Dawn may, and will, creep forward, but the light through torn curtains never reaches far enough.

* * *

**Prompt:** Remus/Sirius/Luna and "And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me / Speaking words of widsom".

* * *

**OBLIGATION**

And there was that odd unease again, she thought, the kind she hadn't felt last time but had the time before. Not just quiet, but tension-thickening the air, tightening Sirius' jaw, clipping his few words with sarcasm. She'd missed the worst of the argument; hadn't seen the fire, only the smoke rising from the ashes. There was a note of something Luna wouldn't identify caught and held beneath the surface in Lupin's mild voice, but only when he spoke to Sirius, his smile a little less genuine, intentions at odds with his tone.

She watched them dance around one another, verbally; the physical side was more subtle than outright avoidance. She watched Sirius' head whip toward the door, back straightening and head raising when Lupin appeared, eyes full of expectation but not hope, and she watched him scowl when Lupin merely acknowledged them both with a nod and continued down the hall.

"He's not obligated to forgive you immediately," she said quietly one night, pretending she'd been reading all along. He was quick to protest.

"I never s-"

"You might want to stop treating him like he is." Her wide eyes blinked up at him for a moment, then she turned her attention back to her books.

* * *

**Prompt:** Remus/Sirius and "Sometimes means all the time / And never means maybe".  
**Canon:** Post-Hogwarts but before the series.

* * *

**SOMETIMES**

It's not perfect, or even good, sometimes; they're only human, and they argue, even fight. Sirius is quicker to raise his voice, but he's never quite mastered the art of getting his point across without it-if he even has a point. He does, most times, but it tends to get lost, buried under all sorts of things he drags in, things that relate only peripherally to the disagreement at hand. It shouldn't frustrate Remus as much as it does, still; more often than not, if it draws out long enough, he ends up shouting, as well.

It occurs to Remus, when he's slipped outside for a walk to clear his head, that Sirius has always been a shade more idealistic than himself, if only where the two of them are concerned. But the rough patches have been stretching out and running together, with no real break in-between; no amount of idealism can deny that. When he broaches the topic later, carefully, he expects emphatic denial. Instead, he's met with reluctant, bitter agreement, proof that he and Sirius have come to the same conclusions.

There's no need to linger, no need to provide more opportunity for confrontation, for conflict. He packs when Sirius is at work, and leaves when he's not there.


	2. In the Morning, Reach

**Prompt:** Remus/Lily, _Unfogging the Future_, and melancholy.

* * *

**DON'T WANT TO KNOW**

Early evening found them outside, under an old, spreading oak tree in the garden. They sat on the grass like schoolchildren, though those years were behind them, with saucers on the ground and teacups in their hands.

"Trying to read your leaves, are you?" Lily asked with a grin, tilting her head.

He looked up from his cup with a raised eyebrow. "It's been a long time since I've done that, and I'm not inclined to do so again now."

Her laugh was soft, and close to a snicker. "It's mostly rubbish, anyhow. The entire discipline. I can't think of a single prediction any of you ever made for me that came true."

"Except for the one that had you leaving school and marrying a 'swaggering prat'. That one was fairly on-track." The withering look she shot his way was met with an almost-neutral expression; the corners of his mouth twitched, finally giving in to a smile. "I'm not the one who said it," he reminded her, a vivid image in his mind of Sirius' irritating smirk.

"It's almost... depressing, in a way," she started. "Even the good predictions. If something's going to happen, I don't think I want to know." He didn't interrupt, sensing she wasn't quite done. "I suppose there's something to be said for being prepared, but knowing the good in advance takes away the fun of the surprise. And knowing something awful's going to happen," she paused to shrug, "takes away the joy of whatever time you have left."

He nodded, in acknowledgement and agreement, as she squinted against the sun hanging low on the horizon. She set the teacup in its saucer on the ground, and he watched the look on her face slide from light-hearted contemplation into something a little more serious.

"Sometimes I almost forget we're at war," she said after a moment's hesitation, the words little more than a whisper, as if she was afraid to speak them louder. "Sometimes I wonder what it'd take to make it sink in."

He turned toward her, resting his weight on one hand. "Lily," he started with a sigh, but didn't get any further.

"No," she said; simply, but with conviction. "I don't want to know."

* * *

**Prompt:** Remus/Lily and "paper hearts".

* * *

**PAPER HEARTS**

"He means well, Lily."

She snorted, flicking a tiny red-and-pink paper heart at him before continuing to dust them off her clothing. "All over me, all over the table..." The glare was half-hearted; she couldn't bring herself to misdirect her embarassment onto Remus. "Did he have to use so much confetti?"

Remus chuckled under his breath, but not quietly enough for her to miss it. "He does mad things to get your attention on a weekly basis, and you expected to avoid him today, of all days?"

"But in the Hall, Remus," Lily said. "At dinner." The oak tree behind her made a good backrest, and she surveyed the bits of paper sprayed out across the grass as a result of her tidying.

"Consider yourself lucky," Remus said, edging away before he even finished his sentence. "You've seen what he does to people he doesn't like." The back of Lily's hand connected with his forearm with a solid thump as she caught the flash of amusement in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he apologised, with a convincing attempt at a resigned sigh. "He appears to be smitten."

"He's an ass," she said, but she smiled, softly.

"Yes, he is."

"Do you suppose he'll ever learn to stop making a fool out of me?"

"Probably the day he learns to stop making a fool out of himself."

Lily groaned. "In a decade or two, then."

"A decade or two, I think," Remus said, leaning back against the tree, "is being optimistic."


	3. Don't Want to Know, Paper Hearts

**Prompt:** Sirius/Remus and "being free is just a state of mind".

* * *

**S****PACE**

He paces from wall to wall, through long halls, into empty rooms, up creaking stairwells, as if there's not enough space in the house. It's not space he needs, now, though; it's to get rid of the ceiling over his head, to step outside just once. Sometimes there are quiet footsteps behind him, and sometimes he turns to meet Remus' eyes; sometimes, though, sometimes he just leans against the windowsill, hands on the peeling paint, looking outside at nothing at all until a warm hand slides up his back and over his shoulder, drawing him away.

* * *

**Prompt:** Sirius/Remus and "Do not listen to a word I say, just listen to what I can keep silent".

* * *

**ALMOST WORDS**

Some days it's never-ending, the stream of words from Sirius' mouth. For everything he has a reason, a story, an opinion, a comeback, and those are the days on which Remus speaks the least. He listens, instead, putting in what he can when it's necessary, without shifting the spotlight, and managing to keep the smile from his face when a particularly smart-assed comment nearly lands Sirius in detention yet again.

Other days he doesn't say much at all, but he looks. And touches, fingers on Remus' arm or the back of his neck, giving a nod and a faint smile before climbing into his own bed and pretending to sleep. He slips out after Remus, but arrives first, leaning against the dark, open doorway like it's another afternoon and they're not both set to lose more than points if they're caught.

It's hurried, urgent, eyes wide open and wary, soft sounds - almost words - murmured against each other's ears. Then it's another nod, and back out the same door, Remus first, Sirius following, before the sun has a chance to rise.

* * *

**Prompt:** Sirius/Remus and distrust.  
**Canon/Timeline:** Post-Hogwarts but before James & Lily's deaths.

* * *

**INTO STEP**

It's cold outside after dark, and they've only just met again. The wind ripples puddles, bends branches, sends leaves skittering down the street, and they stare at one another, faces orange-pale under the streetlamp, friendly greetings awkward and halting on the tips of their tongues. There's a smile, then, from Remus, or half of one, and it's enough. Sirius nods his head, and turns. Remus follows.

They fall into step with one another, heads bent and shoulders hunched against the wind, stealing glances out of the corners of their eyes. It's avoidance from one, hesitation from the other, and catching up on months of separation gives way to conversational filler, half the words lost in gusts and the other pointless meandering to fill the silence.

Sirius pauses, inexplicably, on his front step. Remus brow furrows and he tilts his head to the side, but before he can speak the door is open. Sirius mutters something, under his breath, that may or may not have meant to be heard, but he manages a smile that's even a bit convincing, and lets Remus walk inside.


	4. Space, Almost Words, Into Step

**Prompt:** Remus + Lily and "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue".

* * *

**SOMETHING BORROWED**

She saw him in the mirror when she raised her eyes, standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face and a small box in his hands. "They're almost ready for you," he said, with that odd sort of half-smile that was far less infuriating to her than it used to be.

Her hands were almost not shaking as she reached up to sweep the veil back from her face, and as she lowered her arm he pressed something small and cool into her palm. It was heavy in her hand; years-old but still shining, a cluster of blue stones ringed with gold. She held it up to look at it, tilting her head, a question in her eyes.

He took it from her and pinned it to the neck of her dress. "It belonged to my mother," he said, by way of explanation. "I thought I might lend it to you, for the day."

A broad grin spread across her face. "Remus-"

He stopped her, gently, by taking her hand and settling it in the crook of his elbow. "Takes care of three of the requirements. I assumed you'd have the 'new' part taken care of on your own. Now," he said, steering her toward the door, "he's waiting."

* * *

**Prompt:** Remus/Lily and "harbour".

* * *

**SOONER**

Her hands curled delicately around the rail, thumbs drifting over the sun-warmed wood, and he chose to focus on them rather than her face, which she'd turned away, watching - or pretending to watch - the sailboats anchored in the harbour. "I only wish-" she'd started, and one of her hands moved to rest atop the other, "I just wish-you should have told me sooner."

"Would it have changed anything?" he asked bluntly, but quietly, to soften the edge.

She sighed, and her long, straight hair fell over her face as she leaned forward. "No," she said. "I don't think so."

A nod, he decided, would be a sufficient answer. Her hand caught his as he turned to go; the gold band on her finger caught the light. "I'm sorry," she said, and squeezed his hand. "I mean it. I am."

He detangled their fingers gently. "I know," he said, and stepped away.

* * *

**Cast:** Remus/Lily and "Late for the New Year's Eve celebration".

* * *

**QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT**

At quarter to midnight, she waited with nothing more than a sliver of hope. It'd be just like him to cut it so close, but as the minutes ticked away, a gut feeling told her he wasn't going to make it. He'd not even planned to go home first; his first stop in town would be her flat.

At five minutes to midnight, someone came knocking. She crossed the room in three strides and flung the door open. "... Remus?"

She might have managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but her grin faded, for a second.

He tilted his head once the door closed behind him, hands still hidden under his cloak, speaking softly. "He's not here, is he."

"No. He's not, " she confirmed, and then a bottle of wine was being passed from his warm hand into hers.

"I had a feeling he'd be delayed," was all he said. Outside the window, down in the crowded courtyard, a crackle, a bang, and a joyous shout mixed with the merrymaking. "Happy New Year, Lily."

She couldn't help but return his smile.


	5. Something Borrowed, Sooner, Quarter

**Prompt:** Remus + Lily and "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue".

* * *

**SOMETHING BORROWED**

She saw him in the mirror when she raised her eyes, standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face and a small box in his hands. "They're almost ready for you," he said, with that odd sort of half-smile that was far less infuriating to her than it used to be.

Her hands were almost not shaking as she reached up to sweep the veil back from her face, and as she lowered her arm he pressed something small and cool into her palm. It was heavy in her hand; years-old but still shining, a cluster of blue stones ringed with gold. She held it up to look at it, tilting her head, a question in her eyes.

He took it from her and pinned it to the neck of her dress. "It belonged to my mother," he said, by way of explanation. "I thought I might lend it to you, for the day."

A broad grin spread across her face. "Remus-"

He stopped her, gently, by taking her hand and settling it in the crook of his elbow. "Takes care of three of the requirements. I assumed you'd have the 'new' part taken care of on your own. Now," he said, steering her toward the door, "he's waiting."

* * *

**Prompt:** Remus/Lily and "harbour".

* * *

**SOONER**

Her hands curled delicately around the rail, thumbs drifting over the sun-warmed wood, and he chose to focus on them rather than her face, which she'd turned away, watching - or pretending to watch - the sailboats anchored in the harbour. "I only wish-" she'd started, and one of her hands moved to rest atop the other, "I just wish-you should have told me sooner."

"Would it have changed anything?" he asked bluntly, but quietly, to soften the edge.

She sighed, and her long, straight hair fell over her face as she leaned forward. "No," she said. "I don't think so."

A nod, he decided, would be a sufficient answer. Her hand caught his as he turned to go; the gold band on her finger caught the light. "I'm sorry," she said, and squeezed his hand. "I mean it. I am."

He detangled their fingers gently. "I know," he said, and stepped away.

* * *

**Cast:** Remus/Lily and "Late for the New Year's Eve celebration".

* * *

**QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT**

At quarter to midnight, she waited with nothing more than a sliver of hope. It'd be just like him to cut it so close, but as the minutes ticked away, a gut feeling told her he wasn't going to make it. He'd not even planned to go home first; his first stop in town would be her flat.

At five minutes to midnight, someone came knocking. She crossed the room in three strides and flung the door open. "... Remus?"

She might have managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but her grin faded, for a second.

He tilted his head once the door closed behind him, hands still hidden under his cloak, speaking softly. "He's not here, is he."

"No. He's not, " she confirmed, and then a bottle of wine was being passed from his warm hand into hers.

"I had a feeling he'd be delayed," was all he said. Outside the window, down in the crowded courtyard, a crackle, a bang, and a joyous shout mixed with the merrymaking. "Happy New Year, Lily."

She couldn't help but return his smile.


	6. Weight, Agreement, Late, Anchor

**Prompt:** Neville/Ginny and "epidemic".

* * *

**EPIDEMIC**

When the sixth case in two weeks came through the front doors of St. Mungo's, the hospital had to admit that the condition was bordering on epidemic and needed better, faster treatment. Neville found himself holed up, at intervals between his usual tasks, in his favourite corner of the ground-floor greenhouse, poring over a familiar encyclopedia of herbs & healing. By the time the ninth case had been diagnosed, his spark of hope had grown into the first stages of comprehension, and Ginny nodded to herself as she read over his hypothesis and tentative list of instructions.

Ginny labelled it a minor setback when the first batch more or less exploded, and rendered itself useless. Neville sighed, scratching out the quantity of shrivelfigs and filling in a different number, watching, out of the corner of his eye, Ginny's brow furrow as she used a quick cleansing charm on her cauldron. There were less fireworks the second time around, but the liquid left a nasty red burn where it touched Neville's hand.

A combination of willpower and stubbornness sustained him, but thirty-six hours later his fingers were growing clumsy and his pestle seemed to get heavier and heavier. Neville was aware of Ginny, similarly fatigued, glancing at him now and again as she observed her bubbling cauldron, until the devil's claw was crushed into a fine powder. He poured it from the mortar into a bowl, and presented it to her.

She sprinkled it, methodically, onto the surface of the bubbling potion, and dipped the ladle in once, then twice. Neville bit his lip, then let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, when the liquid shimmered, rippled, and became clear. "I think that's it," Ginny said, in a whisper. "I think you did it."

"Wasn't just me," Neville said, ears reddening. Ginny's face split in a grin and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. For a moment, Neville was an awkward fourteen-year-old again, his arms not quite fitting properly around her shoulders, then Ginny stepped away.

"Fourth floor," she said, handing him his parchment, with its crossed-out missteps and neatly corrected quantities. "Time to move to the next level."

She reached out her arm and caught his wrist before he had a chance to move, and all he could manage was a soft "Okay," as he followed her out the door.

* * *

**Prompt:** Harry/Ginny and "hate".

* * *

**OVERSHADOWED**

Ginny Weasley will never admit it, but she hates Harry Potter. Or, more specifically, she hates The Boy Who Lived. She hates prophecies, and destinies, and when lazy afternoons by the lake are overshadowed by the knowledge of his ultimate task. She hates him for wanting what's best for her, and she hates watching him walk away alone, after the funeral, her brother and Hermione three steps behind. Most of all, perhaps, she hates that she cannot seem to find the faith or the courage to believe that he'll come back to her. Or come back at all.

* * *

**Prompt:** Marauders and "prohibition".

* * *

**PROHIBITION**

Four on a bed was crowded, but they managed, and pulled the curtains closed around them. Peter, serving as lookout, left one side open a crack, so he could see into the hall and straight down the stairs almost to the common room. Sirius sat on a brown-paper package, attempting to look mysterious, and Remus rolled his eyes.

"Get to it, then," said James, and Sirius withdrew a short, flat bottle, golden-flecked liquid swirling within.

"Butterbeer?" asked Peter.

Sirius snorted. "Firewhiskey, you daft sod." Peter's eyes grew wide. "First sip?" Sirius asked, wiggling the bottle at him, then opened it and took one himself, screwing up his face before he swallowed. The bottle passed to James, then Remus, then finally to Peter, the latter coughing only a little as the liquor burned a path down his throat. The bottle went around again, the boys taking sips in rule-breaking silence, until flushes spread over their cheeks.

"Prefect!" hissed Peter, and the Firewhiskey was hastily corked, the bottle disappearing under Sirius's rear end. Footsteps padded unevenly along the hallway, but passed the door and kept going.

"Right," said Sirius, "shall we continue?"


	7. Epidemic, Overshadowed, Prohibition

**Prompt:** It's the best present he's ever gotten.

* * *

The doorbell rang at half-past seven on Christmas Eve. Though Remus didn't move from his seat beside the fire, he lowered his book and listened; neither he nor his parents were expecting visitors, but he did have cousins that liked to drop in unannounced. Several long minutes later, his mother called to him from the kitchen. This time, he rose, but stopped short after rounding the corner.

It wasn't cousins. Rather, it was Sirius, soaked through and dripping onto the floor.

"It's raining," Sirius said, arms wrapped around himself. "Was kinda hoping for snow, myself." His usual coat and boots were missing, and Remus suspected his mother had already made off with them.

Remus offered a bewildered smile. "You're here," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Um," said Sirius, shoving hair out of his eyes.

Remus's mother interrupted them, then, coming in with a towel that, despite its size, seemed strikingly inadequate for the amount of water that had followed Sirius inside. "Here, dear," she said, placing it around Sirius's shoulders before leaving again, her shoes clicking down the hall.

"I mean," Remus started again, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, "I wasn't expecting... I just thought you'd be with James."

"Well, James. Family's on holiday, you know, just for a few days. I could have gone with them, I suppose, but-" Sirius shrugged, then, and held out his arms. "Happy Christmas?"

Remus laughed. "You complete idiot," he said, hugging Sirius tightly, sodden clothing and all.


	8. Unannounced

**Prompt:** It's the best present he's ever gotten.

* * *

The doorbell rang at half-past seven on Christmas Eve. Though Remus didn't move from his seat beside the fire, he lowered his book and listened; neither he nor his parents were expecting visitors, but he did have cousins that liked to drop in unannounced. Several long minutes later, his mother called to him from the kitchen. This time, he rose, but stopped short after rounding the corner.

It wasn't cousins. Rather, it was Sirius, soaked through and dripping onto the floor.

"It's raining," Sirius said, arms wrapped around himself. "Was kinda hoping for snow, myself." His usual coat and boots were missing, and Remus suspected his mother had already made off with them.

Remus offered a bewildered smile. "You're here," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Um," said Sirius, shoving hair out of his eyes.

Remus's mother interrupted them, then, coming in with a towel that, despite its size, seemed strikingly inadequate for the amount of water that had followed Sirius inside. "Here, dear," she said, placing it around Sirius's shoulders before leaving again, her shoes clicking down the hall.

"I mean," Remus started again, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, "I wasn't expecting... I just thought you'd be with James."

"Well, James. Family's on holiday, you know, just for a few days. I could have gone with them, I suppose, but-" Sirius shrugged, then, and held out his arms. "Happy Christmas?"

Remus laughed. "You complete idiot," he said, hugging Sirius tightly, sodden clothing and all.


End file.
